


Love Stains: A Sofa Story

by Avid Moron (Nevermore9)



Category: Kid vs. Kat (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, M/M, Master/Pet, Masturbation, Rough Sex, Sleep Sex, beastiality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 07:39:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7792687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermore9/pseuds/Avid%20Moron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Kat's tired of sharing his sofa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Stains: A Sofa Story

The cushion was permanently stained with an imprint of Coop's thirteen year old butt, that, and an embarassing stain the boy had to hide away after he'd spilled himself while watching a mature movie late one night. Personal bodily fluids on something usually marked that something as yours. So why was Kat curled up on the sofa every passing hour? Coop figured spite was a large portion of the answer.  
Ever since Coop fell in love with the new sofa, its comforting curves and plushy fabric, he noticed sitting on it less and less. Mr. Kat made sure to cling to the sofa like a hairball on the kitchen floor whenever anyone so much as put an eye on it. Now it bore the scars of alien claws, sleepy scratches from Mr. Kat's bedtime preparations. Spinning, extending his nails into the polyurethane foam as if it were a ball of yarn, then spinning around once more before lying down for a snooze: it was the same routine. Kat's new habits had ruined what was once Coop's favorite time of the day.  
Midnight. Red numbers spelling out twelve o'clock roused Coop's eyelids as they drifted closer to closed. He patted the alarm clock next to him like an old friend while he stretched himself out. The sofa had been cat-free since last night, Coop took the oppurtunity to retake his terrority. If staying awake all night was what it would take to keep Mr. Kat from his favorite sofa then he was prepared for it.  
Snacks filled the empty spaces between one armrest and the other- chips, crackers, cakes, and enough soda to knee sleep in the groin before hacking a loogie onto its broken body. Nested awkwardly in the middle of this was Coop lounging in his underwear, because when no one was around relaxation took precedence over decency. The television blurted unrelated phrases and shouts as Coop flipped through channels, searching for the station with either the most uncensored nudity or mindless violence, whichever came first.  
Rapid gunfire blasting over wailing cries flooded the room as an action movie took control of the television screen. Coop had found his station, and Mr. Kat had never been more aroused. Blood oozing from a burst spore of bubbling puss drew Kat out from his burrow beneath the sofa. Warring shadows, piercing each other with scores of bullets, cha-cha slided across an evergrowing grin on Mr. Kat's face. His tail decimated a line of dust bunnies while he inched nearer to the light of the gore-bath ahead.  
A femur crunched. Kat shuddered, imagining the shattered bone under his paw. Smooth skin, delicate and naked, waiting to be unwrapped by the gentle incision of metal. Skin like Cooper's. Like Cooper's?  
It was the tickle of a tiny hair on Mr. Kat's scalp that coaxed the rest of his slender belly into the welcoming darkness of the livingroom. His eyes flashed to the dangling limb on the side of the sofa. The action movie faded into the white noise of the background as Kat went on daydreaming with a sinister glint in his bottomless eyes. What would Cooper's exposed leg look like peeled of its flesh?  
Kat mounted the cushion in a single leap. Immediately, a fizzy secretion soaked his paw, and Coop's snoring breathed hot air on his backside. Pulling himself free from a sticky cluster of popcorn, Mr. Kat batted away the leaking soda bottle spreading its fructose gunk across his shoulder. Crinkled bags and empty wrappers made a fuss with every movement. Something foreign distracted Kat from the need to lick himself clean of the junk food groping him.  
Tears from a child on the TV lured Mr. Kat's attention. He peered to the Coop who had dozed off under the pressure of latenight exhaustion. Despite the ball of snot inflating on the edge of Cooper's nose, and the stream of drool along his bottom lip, he looked good enough to be a substitute for the crying boy. Bizarrely, it was difficult to picture Cooper sobbing in the same helpless way as the little boy on the screen, but Kat found he could satisfy himself by merely enjoying the likeness between the two.  
It was delicious. Grunts of a fight scene in the rain quickly superceded the waves of sweet innocence from the boy on the TV, yet Kat couldn't stop concentrating on those seasick whimpers in his mind. The feel of Coop's underwear slid down Mr. Kat's purple backside. His pulse became fanatical, and the scene of a skirmish for supremacy between a hero and a villain absorbed his abyssal pupils entirely. Battle constantly on replay in Mr. Kat's memory, emerging in his sadistically calculated fantasies. Pain became a delicacy in the delicate moments of battle, giving, as well as recieving.  
Sex blurred with violence. Cat claws unsheathed, the size of shark teeth, itching to rend sweat covered skin, rabid for the experience of penetration. Relief was found temporarily in a couch pillow. Squeezing it, manipulating the pillow in twisting contortions that Coop would strain to mimic. His human body would glisten, bend, and be drained like a moldy gutter of grease cleaned with arsenic mouthwash. Mr. Kat couldn't be any harder.  
Tearing fabric was like music played on rusted violins. Pillow intestines curled around Kat's crooked paws in mangled up heaps while he savored the hump of Cooper's dreaming arousal. The opposition of bodies, trying to fit together with the resistance of incorrect puzzle pieces. It was heroin. Kat was drunk on the chemicals coursing throughout his anatomy. The spines of Mr. Kat's reproductive organ snagged on the sleeping boy's underwear, and the feline rocked back and forth with the swelling of a coming climax.  
On the TV, a bruised hero thrust his blade into the breast of his adversary. Blood spurted, dripping down the camera lens. The villain's face was a priceless artifact. Their jaw hung completely open, as if death had been such a rapture that they couldn't help but cream themselves in the moment. Kat related. His knees held all the balance of rattling tambourines, and the grinding which had begun between his penis and the pair of underwear underneath reminded him of a cactus on fine grain sandpaper. That rugged victory, however, was the crowning cherry. It didn't fit Coop as well as the military man in the action film; not that it mattered. Fear sprinkled scarcely on a dish was more impactful than a punch of scotch. Fear made tasting a boy's pain quite gratifying.  
Mr. Kat ejaculated. The corners of his wolfish smile were pinned like bloodied t-shirts on a serial killer's clothesline while his brain swam in a tsunami of orgasm. Rubbing himself out until breaking point left Mr. Kat flat on his back. If that was nirvana, then what could delving into the caverns of Cooper be? He scarcely mulled it over.

Coop Burtonburger certainly had no idea what a hangover was like, but waking up after his midnight junk fling, he had a pretty good idea. It was still early in the morning, neither his father or sister were awake, as far as he could tell. That probably gave him enough time to clean up the rat's nest he had left behind and get dressed. Though, the task of rolling off the sofa was more difficult than either of those. A breathing weight was snuggled in his lap, and some form of crust caked his chest and his cheeks. Coop cracked open his eyes. Horrified, he discovered his month old love stain visible on the sofa, overlapped by a second patch of DNA that was in no way human.  
In the bathroom, after scaring away a snoozing Mr. Kat from his stomach, Coop scrubbed himself with a damp sponge. The residue on his skin made for a few hefty minutes of dabbing and scraping, until finally most of it was unrecognizable. As for the smell, that didn't disappear so easily. After a shower and a half, Coop still reeked of a pungent acidity. At a loss, he snuck some of his dad's overpowering deodorant, which only somewhat helped.  
"What did that cat do to me?"  
While changing in his room, Coop brooded over plausible schemes that Kat might be plotting. He ruled out the bitter substance he awoke with as toxic waste, since his flesh hadn't melted off yet, and decided it couldn't be slime from a batch of alien eggs implanted in his throat, because he'd seen Mr. Kat's hairless testes enough unfortunate times to know he's definitely not female. Without any credibility towards those two theories, Coop was dry of ideas.  
Nonetheless, as always, the boy decided to investigate Mr. Kat's twisted ways. He pulled up his pants and bounded down the stairs, wondering if he might find a clue or two on the sofa he had unwittingly shared with Kat last night. However, his dad appeared to have beaten him to it. Burt Burtonburger stood in the living room, holding up a defluffed pillow with a rigid look of disappointment.  
Coop reacted with his natural reflex. "I didn't do it!"  
His father breathed a merciful sigh. The feline quality in the annihilation of the furniture ornament was evident, so much so that Burt would find it a discomfort to his identity as a parent if he pinned it solely on his son. Luckily, another blemish of misbehavior was very un-catlike. "I suppose the stain on the sofa was the cat too?"  
Before Coop could raise a pinky finger in protest his disciplinarily devout dad pointed him upstairs. Coincidently, the same upstairs was home to Mr. Kat's morning scoutings and nighttime prowlings. On top of it all, it just so happened that, like a salty crocodile slumbering beneath the surface of an algae pond, the kitty was indulging his loathsome passion for sloth atop Cooper's mattress. Yet, the feline had not the slightest idea that the subject of his deathless hatred was enroute to discovering his dozing self.  
The door flew open on its hinges and Mr. Kat's waxy ears perked up in alarm. In the four steps it took Cooper to plop his flat butt onto his bed, Mr. Kat had successfully tangled himself up in a swollen welt of yellow blanketry. Cooper's weight fell over his bed like a toppled Colossus, and Kat, stealthily avoiding detection, might've been squashed if he hadn't taken advantage of Coop's distracted annoyance at his father and leapt far from sight.  
Kat hit the carpet with the grace of a feather. For a moment he blinked quizzically at the adolescent lying on the last remaining bed which welcomed him, before scurrying to the rot eaten frame of the closet. There, within the spider infested bowels of larvae feed, which could have been mistaken for a t-shirt or three, and pants which were no more than moth breeders in pretend, Mr. Kat felt betrayed. Millie had recently confined him to the floor, keeping anything in her room remotely favored off-limits, Burt hung around with him as often as a decayed leper, and now Coop spread his control to one of Mr. Kat's final solaces.  
On his bed, the boy sat as an unknowing target of Kat's choleric gaze. He reached for a comic in his nightstand drawer, easing down the zipper on his shorts. Between the pages of the Atomic Age horror magazine was a plethora of unsettling turn ons for the hormone drowned, teenage brain. Included in the circus of titillation was a blonde woman on page twenty-four who was trapped in the deplorable situation of being held against her will by a monsterous rat king, boring his bloodshot peepers into her exposed nipples while he gnashed his dentures. This was Cooper's favorite page.  
When Coop uncovered his erect genitalia, Mr. Kat concluded it was the most oppurtune time to further the boy's punishment. Cautiously, Kat crept to the bedroom door, keeping an ear trained on Cooper's puppy-like whines playing their singsong notes. It was delectable, how pitiful the masturbating teen sounded. Then suddenly a pair of hair-raising screams interrupted everything like a celestial church choir as Mr. Kat threw the door open. On one hand was Cooper, wailing in shock at his abrupt exposure, and on the other hand was Millie, screeching so that the whole neighborhood trembled with an earache, because she was seeing her brother in the most revolting of ways imaginable to her fairly innocent imagination.

Shoveling Kat's litter box was to be penace for Coop, who labored in the basement while his father drove his sister to a supposed girl's community meeting, though he knew it was a lie. The discolored stone rooms, below the main house, smelt of stale urine. Mr. Kat's litter box sat shamefully in the corner, stinking of excrement. Inches from the heap of partly decomposed filth, Coop gagged. A faint flavor of sunbaked fish snaked up Cooper's nostrils and slithered over his tongue with the taste of musty perfume. Dwelling on the infuriated yowls of his father managed to relieve Coop of the fetor.  
Meanwhile, Mr. Kat bounded down the basement stairway with the clandestine giddiness of a tossed slinky. The feline's translucent haws blinked across each eye when he spied Cooper's rear wiggling with every scoop of litter the boy shoveled into a trashbag. It wasn't hard to picture Cooper's butt as a painted target. So, like a horny rattlesnake who's greased his belly, Kat squirmed towards his prey.  
It was the graze of velvety cat against Cooper's hip which made his skeleton lurch out of alignment with his skin and other organs. After the child's heart bumped his throat, Mr. Kat began to dribble a delicate trickle of piss onto Cooper's hand. Lukewarm urine soaked his fingers like cooking oil, and formed a yellow puddle upon the stone floor. Heated, the teen grit his face into a wrathful contortion, but during the moment he opened his lips to curse, Kat gracefully raised his tail and backed up his hindquarters. Kissing Cooper's pallid mouth was Mr. Kat's dimple of an anus.  
Coop gagged as his tongue snuck in to taste the vulgar flavors of Kat. Used kitty litter, and dead lemon, splotched with arsenic spots, buzzed over the boy's tastebuds. He choked down a secretion of hot bodily fluid. Grease, grime, oils like bitter garlic juice, lubricated Cooper's pig pink tongue, filling his empty stomach with painful, nauseous nausea. Mean Mr. Kat merely moved his rear further into his target's face, catching the teen's knobby nose in the crook of his cockatrice tail. The vomit laced saliva of Cooper's drooling lips coated Kat's flesh with a savory warmth. It comforted his hairlessness like a roaring fireplace on Christmas morning.  
Drinking the scents of summer rubbish, the sour zing of salty crocodile tears, Coop cursed up and down and sideways, telling himself he'd rather be within the ass of a skunk than the stink of Kat. He finally was allowed to pop his tongue out of his cat's pulsating anus when the ring loosened, as it puckered and spread with the contractions of smooching lips. Coop's forehead hit the floor. An elixir of spit mixed with fecal residue seeped from his traumatized mouth, collecting in a tiny ocean beneath his sweating, smelling body.  
Mr. Kat was unhappy. He spun towards the reeling Coop, desperately hacking up his intestines onto the basement stone, hoping to empty himself of Kat. The feline blinked, absorbing the picture of a broken teen in his aphotic pupils, which made up his entire eyes. Just seeing Cooper try to barf the taste of him back into his throat excited Kat more than his previous conquests. He had been given melted trust, glazed with insecurity, fed virginity, swallowed globs and gushes of his boss' most luscious stuff, while climbing to the tippy top of corporate planetary invasion. He had sampled friends' fudge sauce, delved in womanly pastries, oozing cat custard, and drowned himself in underdeveloped jelly. There was not one delight he hadn't tried, scratches, claw marks, candles, and under the table, but none as exciting as Cooper's fragile, gelatinous human form. Kat could never get enough.  
Nails, like tempered diamond, shredded the seat of Cooper's pants. Kat snapped off the waistband of Coop's underwear, and pounced. Spines were the first thing Cooper felt. Tiny needles, like the linings of a cactus or a pine, bit into the spotless flesh of Cooper's innards. The reflex which made his anus squeeze down around Kat's thorny erection didn't help to dull the sensation either. The initial pain that brought fresh water to Coop's eyes only diminished, he was embarrassed to admit to himself, after Mr. Kat began a steam engine type movement of constant thrust and pull back. This momentum had the quality of trimmed fingernails drawing shapes, instead of a rosebush stem craving pictures; but despite the near gentility, Kat had Cooper shouting "Hey"s and "Ho"s as if he was singing Blitzkrieg Bop.  
Lithe, hairless skin cupped Cooper's buttocks while Kat's hips stuck to the boy like loose glue, peppering his derrière with a dust of dandruff. Coop moved his hand along his belly, past his penis, his testicles, and his perineum, until his fingers touched the folds of Mr. Kat's warm pair of balls. He held them tenderly, breathless at every sharp turn the feline's sensational endowment took.  
Satisfied with his plaything's newfound consent, or more correctly: sick enjoyment, Mr. Kat teetered on the precipice of a grand climax. Cooper was under his thumb, squirming beneath the weight of his unrefined passion. Their bodies melded with the brilliance of a hot iron blade onto the handle of a sword. Caucasian flesh was all that was on Kat's perverted mind. He counted the itty bitty beauty marks dotting Cooper's spine, pricking each one with the tip of a greedy claw as if he were an inquistor putting a witch to the test. Polka dots of blood were drawn. Cooper munched on his bottom lip.  
A sizeable "God," was extracted from Coop as gracefully as a wrung towel when Mr. Kat poked the plushness of the teen's prostate gland. The alien abomination of a pet snicked, he was the boy's god, and Kat demonstrated this by dipping his talons into Cooper's ribcage. Yelping, Coop fell to his elbows. Mr. Kat admired the view of his sex partner, the manner in which his ass wobbled, those cheeks hugging his prick. If Kat had a deity in his culture he'd cry for mercy too. But, the feline couldn't even meow in rapture before Cooper's pinky inserted itself in his plump anus, still faintly wet. Coop didn't care that he heard Roy Orbison's "Oh, Pretty Woman" on the radio upstairs, he buried his little finger to the knuckle.  
Mr. Kat yowled like only a cat can when the ring of his anorectal line choked Cooper's digit. Velvet was the word the boy would use to describe Kat's rectum. Wretching his spined phallus from its sheath of human meat, Kat drowned in orgasm. It was his magnum opus. Coop cried out at the sharp tug of Kat's prick. Coop's dad screamed "what the Hell," at what he witnessed coming down the basement stairway.  
Semen getting gummy in his hair, Cooper now had to provide at least a dozen reasons to his dad on why he shouldn't disown him. And, from the look of complete blissful transcendence on Mr. Kat's face as he melted over the floor, he also had to simultaneously devise a way for the two to engage in further extracurricular activities without getting caught. In the end, a firm spanking, on Kat's part, and immediate sessions with a Freudian therapist were what landed on Coop's plate by the following night.


End file.
